


Destined to Fail

by hunenka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Blood Addiction, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunenka/pseuds/hunenka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Season 5, post The End.</i> After a relapse into the demon blood addiction, Sam tries to make Dean see how dangerous he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destined to Fail

Sam doesn’t mean for it to happen, he really doesn’t. And it is the stupidest mischance, too, almost unbelievable, but it still happens. As he cuts the throat of the demon who is pinning him to the ground, hands around his neck, a few drops of the demon’s blood find their way into Sam’s open, gasping mouth.

Even a few drops are far too many.

He throws the demon’s limp body off him and scrambles to his feet, already feeling the effects of the blood. His eyes search the room desperately, looking for his brother. “Dean!”

Dean is there, his expression grim, lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah, I saw it. We need to get you to Bobby’s panic room right now.”

They’re running to the Impala, quickly get inside. Dean turns the ignition key and they set off, the Impala’s engine roaring loud, but not loud enough to drown out the thrumming of dark power in Sam’s veins.

Dean keeps throwing furtive glances at Sam, clearly worried and nervous.

“I didn’t want for it to happen,” Sam blurts out, because he can’t have Dean thinking otherwise, not now that they’ve finally started rebuilding their relationship.

With a tired sigh, Dean nods. “I know, Sammy. I know.” He gives him a tight smile. “We’re gonna fix this, okay? A few days of detox, and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yeah, right,” he answers automatically.

 

*

They won’t get to Bobby’s in time, Sam knows it now, can feel it in every molecule of his body. The hunger inside him is rising, hunger for violence, destruction, for more blood.

Maybe this is a way out, he realizes suddenly. He’s been thinking about the whole being-Lucifer’s-vessel problem a lot, and there might just be one solution. Drastic, admittedly, but according to Castiel, it should work.

It’s worth a try, Sam decides, and starts thinking about the best way to bring it up to his brother, because he knows for sure that Dean isn’t going to like it at all.

 

*

In the end, Sam doesn’t have the time to come up with a clever way to start the conversation because as they drive, he feels like he can’t control himself anymore. He needs fresh air and open space.

“Dean, we gotta stop,” he manages to say, and Dean doesn’t even ask why, he just pulls up at the side of the road. Sam is out of the car before the engine’s even off, gasping for air, trying to clear his head.

“Sam? You okay?” Dean looks worried, eyes wide.

“Not really.” Power is thrumming through him; he’s itching to do something, something… bad, something bad… to Dean.

“You need to get away from me,” Sam almost growls, concentrating hard on not doing anything. It’s getting more difficult every second.

“Oh really? Why?” Dean stuffs his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Because I’m evil,” Sam makes himself say out loud what he’s known for years. “I’m one of Azazel’s children, and they all turned out to be evil in the end. And I’m the worst of them all.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Not this crap again.” He obviously doesn’t take this seriously.

“I mean it, Dean!” Sam’s practically screaming, he’s so desperate to make Dean see, make him understand. “I’m dangerous and you need to leave!”

“Nope.”

It feels like he’s going to explode. Sam takes several deep breaths before he speaks again. “Look, Dean. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, okay? Even if I don’t say yes to Lucifer, I might still become something terrible on my own. I have this darkness inside me, all the time.”

“Bullshit!” Dean is angry now, too, eyes dark with it. “Just… get back in the car, okay?”

“No.” Sam’s made his mind.

“No?”

Pulling out his handgun from the waistband of his jeans, Sam hands it over to his brother, who just stares at it and doesn’t take it. “Dean, I’m too dangerous to live. I don’t wanna hurt anyone, please. You have to kill me.”

Dean’s expression hardens. He snatches the gun from Sam’s hand, but instead of using it, he just throws it into the Impala. “Nobody’s killing you.”

The world around Sam starts to disappear, getting out of focus, blurring at the edges. The only thing that remains sharp and clear is Sam and Dean and the space between them.

“Nobody’s killing you,” Dean repeats, a little softer this time, but with the same determination.

He feels irritation at his brother. Why does Dean always have to make it so hard? Why does he always fight Sam, why doesn’t he just _shut up and listen for once_?

Dean’s eyes are wide and he licks his lips nervously. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Sam realizes he must’ve said his last thought out loud, regrets it for a moment, but then decides to use it to his advantage. “I don’t wanna be Lucifer’s vessel. I don’t wanna be the one who destroys the world.”

“We’ll get rid of him before that happens,” Dean interrupts him.

Sam’s hands curl into tight fists. “No, we won’t. So don’t make me become this, please.” He lets all of his desperation show in his voice, searches Dean’s face for support. “You have to help me out of this mess. You have to kill me.”

Dean’s face twists into a grimace at that, like it physically hurts him just hearing it. “Firstly, hell no. Secondly, even if I agreed with you, and I _don’t_ , the angels would just bring you back, so you can forget it.”

The answer to this is easy. “That’s not exactly true. I’ve talked this through with Cas already, and he thinks there’s a way to prevent that from happening. To make me, uh, really, permanently gone.”

The frown that appears on Dean’s brow speaks of disappointment and disgust. “So that’s why the bastard hasn’t been able to look me in the eye lately.”

Sam steps a bit closer, hoping that Dean is finally starting to understand. “So… are you gonna do it?”

Dean stares at him as if he’s lost his mind. “Kill you? Fuck no!”

Why does he have to be so difficult? It’s making Sam crazy, and it makes it so much harder to fight the violent urges, to ignore the malicious voices whispering in his head. He wishes he could just punch Dean into submission. He knows he could, which is scary. And he kind of wants to, which is even scarier.

Oblivious of Sam’s dark thoughts, Dean runs one hand through his hair and across his face, sighing. “I’m not gonna give up on you, Sammy. You’re not evil, and you’ll never be. It isn’t in you, little brother.” And he really means it, too, Sam can see that.

Stupid, stupid Dean.

The anger… no, it’s more like barely contained _rage_ now… it twists inside Sam, almost too strong to control. And Dean is only making it worse. Why doesn’t he just listen, why can’t he understand how dangerous this is? How dangerous _Sam_ is?

“I’m so much stronger than you right now. I could kill you, you know,” Sam tells Dean. It slips pasts his lips before he can stop himself.

“I know.” Dean doesn’t seem scared or even concerned at the prospect, though. Sam needs to raise his game, so he listens to the voices in his head for inspiration.

“I could hurt you so bad. Tear you apart. Make you go through Hell again.”

“I know.” Dean’s voice remains calm and he just stands there, doesn’t try to grab his gun or run.

“You wouldn’t be able to stop me, no matter what I did.”

“I know.” And Dean still doesn’t look one inch closer to leaving or killing Sam.

“He’s been whispering stuff into my ear at night,” Sam says slowly. “Lucifer. Dirty stuff. Bad stuff. Horrible stuff. And sometimes…” he sighs, makes himself say it, “sometimes I liked it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t you see that I’m evil?” Sam’s shouting again. “You should’ve killed me years ago, when Dad told you to!”

“I’m not gonna kill you, damn it!”

“You should, before I make you regret it,” he snarls. There’s darkness swelling inside him, together with despair and the need to make Dean understand that this really is the best way. The only way. “I could do anything to you.”

Dean holds his gaze, stands still.

It’s almost liberating to say it now, words rolling off his lips easily. “I could rip your clothes off, bend you over the Impala and fuck you. Right here.”

Dean’s gaze doesn’t waver, he doesn’t flinch at all, doesn’t even blink. He just stands there, firm and solid. “I know. But you won’t.”

Why can’t he understand? Sam needs Dean to understand. “Don’t be so sure, _brother_.” He steps forward, well into Dean’s personal space, standing so close to Dean that Dean has to tilt his head up to be able to maintain the eye contact.

“You won’t,” Dean repeats and he sounds so convinced and Sam wishes he could share that conviction. But he can’t, and Dean’s trust in him is only dangerous to him.

“Watch me,” he growls and moves, using the demonic power, the speed and the strength, and in an instant he’s pressing Dean into the Impala’s hood, twisting his wrists behind his back with one hand, and pining him there with his larger, heavier body. He sneaks the other hand between them to touch Dean’s ass.

Dean goes still under him, but his breathing is faster now, leaving condensation on the hood’s surface where his cheek is pressed against it. “Sam, no,” he says, and it doesn’t really sound like a plea, it’s more of an order, or worse yet, like stating a fact. He still isn’t afraid of Sam.

And Sam realizes there’s nothing he could do that would make Dean change his mind, nothing that would make him see what a mistake this is. He can’t hurt Dean enough to drive the point home – both because Dean would just take it and because Sam just couldn’t bring himself to do it in the first place.

Dean won’t let Sam die and they won’t find a way to stop Lucifer and the world will end, just because Dean won’t let Sam go and Sam isn’t strong enough to make him.

Releasing his grip on Dean, Sam stumbles backwards on suddenly shaky legs. “Oh God, Dean… I’m so sorry...” The world is spinning around him and despite the power coursing through his veins – or maybe because of it – he’s pitifully weak.

Then there are strong hands wrapping around him, and Dean is there, pulling him into a firm, warm hug, clutching onto Sam like he never wants to let go. “It’s okay, Sammy,” he whispers into Sam’s neck, and finally there’s emotion in his voice again, and it’s worry and love. “I’m not leaving you again. Not ever. So don’t try to make me, okay?”

Sam finally resigns and wraps his own arms around his brother, holding onto him like a lifeline.

Dean’s grip weakens a little; he’s not crushing Sam in his arms now, instead rubbing his back gently, calmingly, like when they used to be kids. “Just hold on, little brother. Hold on.”

They stand there like that for a long time, cars passing them by occasionally, the drivers sometimes giving them weird looks because they don’t understand, they can’t understand.

Finally, Dean pats Sam on the back in that strong, short way that signals the hug is over and they should move. Reluctantly, Sam lets go.

“Let’s get to Bobby’s,” Dean tells him, and he sounds and acts absolutely normal, as if nothing’s happened at all.

“Can’t wait to lock me up in the panic room?” Sam asks teasingly. It’s so easy to fall back into the banter, into the old, familiar pattern.

Dean grins at him as he opens the door and gets inside the car. “That, too. But mostly, I’m hungry.”

Sam huffs out a soft laugh, shaking his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Dean’s warm, satisfied smile at that, like this is good and everything will be alright because his precious Sammy is laughing.

Sam knows that’s not true.

If Lucifer comes, Sam will eventually say yes.

The only way out of this mess is death.

But Dean won’t let Sam go.

 

END


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